


Clinical Trials

by Ravenshell



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Experimentation, Science, TMNT Spooky Gift Exchange, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Cure, Zombies, corona parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenshell/pseuds/Ravenshell
Summary: When the world is infected with a zombifying virus, Donatello searches for a cure, and his test subjects are his brothers and closest friends...
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29
Collections: Tmnt Spooky Gift Exchange 2020





	Clinical Trials

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RomaMarufixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomaMarufixx/gifts).



> A gift for RomaMarufixx as part of the 2020 TMNT Spooky Gift Exchange!

Clinical Trials  
  
“… And once again, please remember to follow the quarantine guidelines,” the newscaster emphasized from the laptop screen in Don’s lab. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the broadcast. If people had just quarantined properly in the first place, they wouldn’t all be in this mess, and he wouldn’t have been up 63 of the last 72 hours working on a cure. But Americans had an anti-authoritarian streak that ended up biting them in the ass. Sometimes literally.

“Stay at least six feet in front of any oncoming plague victims wherever possible…”

He checked the microscope one more time. Test number 174 was looking promising, but some of the previous 173 had looked promising too, and had proven futile.

“Shelter in place. If you need to go out, do so in groups of ten or more whenever possible.”

He drew the amber liquid up into a fresh syringe. His stock was running low again, and he would have to put everything on hold while he sterilized the set.

“And please, please remember to wear a mask, as a consideration to others. Not only is that your shield against particulate contraction of the virus, but it’s the first line of defense in case you try to bite someone. And just to recap our main story, children are not less susceptible to bites simply because they are shorter and out of the main bite range. And now, over to Leander with the weather. Leander?” The camera changed to a man before a map of New England, though he seemed unresponsive and blank-faced. “Uh, Leander?”   
  
The man lethargically threw a hand toward the map projected behind him. “Rains,” he declared, and was still. After another moment of motionlessness, the weatherman let out a throaty hiss and charged the camera, limbs flailing. The camerawoman let out a yelp as Leander made impact with the camera, which fell to the side, cracking its lens.

The shot changed back to the anchorman, shaking his head as the camerawoman made her escape in front of Camera 1. 

“Would _you_ like to be a weather-person?” he announced, dripping irony on every word as he continued reading the teleprompter while pandemonium continued to erupt in the studio around him. “We have openings. Please contact us at the number on your screen. This has been Carlos Chiang O’Brien Still-Not-a-Zombie *chk* Gambe… who will be practicing some fast-paced social distancing, right now!” The anchor leapt up from his chair and vaulted across the stage offscreen, followed by the camerawoman and zombified weatherman. “Leander, no! Stay back!” was followed by a high-pitched male shriek.

Don shut the laptop. “I think that’s enough news for now,” he declared.

Tapping the syringe to remove the bubbles, he moved to one of the iron cages that now occupied his lab’s back wall. “April, prettiest poppy, are you ready for another test?” he chirped, waving the syringe to show her. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one!”

It was hard to tell if her milky eyes tracked his hand or not, but the girl lunged at the bars with a similar throaty hiss, snapping her teeth in an effort to bite him.

Donnie chuckled. “I know, I’m excited too!” With a wearied sigh, he dropped the mask of false optimism and concentrated on injecting the new infusion into the IV line that led to April’s lower arm, which was in turn shackled to the iron bars of the cage so that she wouldn’t pull the line out each time he needed to run another test. He wished he’d had time to pad the shackle; April’s wrist was red from the constant scraping as she struggled. But there was nothing for it now. 

He waited for thirty seconds, forty-five, a minute, then let out a huff. “Trial #174, failure.” April smashed her face against the bars, trying to get her teeth into him. He dragged a hand across her hair, smoothing it. “It’s alright. We’ll just have to keep trying. You’re still my sweetest honeycomb!” She gurgled and hissed in response.

Behind them, a loud bang came from the other cage as its inhabitant slammed against it, thrashing to reach him with no success. Don turned his attention toward his friend and rival. “…And Casey, you’re… also here.” The young vigilante thrust an arm through the bars, waving it in an attempt to grab or scratch the turtle before him, while Don just stood well out of range watching, blank-faced, for a few minutes.

He trudged back to his desk, flopping into his rolling chair exhaustedly. There _had_ to be a cure for this virus… and he _had_ to be the one the find it, for their friends’ sake… possibly for the world’s sake—it was hard to know how far the plague had spread with communications largely down. As far as Don and his brothers knew, they were the only ones left who _could_ save the world. But his own fatigue had long since set in, and even though he thought he might be on the right track, no positive results were forthcoming. He recorded the experiment as a failure, making a note that the following would increase the amount of chlorodextrin from 12.5 milligrams to 25. He skipped down to the next line and jotted the number _175_ with tears rimming his eyes, then folded his arms over his notebook and buried his face in them. 

The emotional fatigue was setting in as well. His brothers had been out doing what they could to save as many people as they could, while he was, as always, relegated to finding a way to stop the zombification. Three and a half weeks in with no strong leads, though, and their turned friends “contained” and used as guinea pigs in near 200 tests, had Don doubting himself. _He_ was the failure.

It didn’t register with him when the snarls in the lab reduced by half. But his eyes shot open at the raspy call of “Do…nnie?” Gravelly voice or not, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard!

“April!” He was on his feet in an instant, and at her cage in time to see the milky film drain from her eyes, replaced by their former gorgeous blue. His stunned face broke into a broad smile as she lost more of her pallor by the moment. “It worked!” he murmured in triumphant awe. “IT WORKED!”

“Donnie, where—” April started, then gasped as a sharp bang from the other cage caught her attention. “Casey!” She turned back toward Don, but he was already at the door, calling to his brothers.

“Guys! It worked! April’s back and—”

A feral hiss cut him off, more joining the first as three milky pairs of eyes turned his way and started shambling faster than Don would have liked. “Whoa—uhoh!” April gave a little shriek as Donnie shoved the heavy door shut, only to have it slammed part-way open again as the three zombie turtles threw their uncoordinated weight against it. Don shoved back with all of his strength, managing to gain enough ground to throw the bar, deadbolting them in.

He only allowed himself a breath to let his spiked adrenaline to ebb before hustling to unlock April’s prison and release her manacle as she leaned away from Casey’s outstretched, clawing arm, even though she was far out of reach.

“What happened?” she asked, unhooking her IV line and pulling the needle from her vein. “I remember… that one zombie came out of nowhere and latched on to my shoulder…” She pulled the collar of her shirt down past her shoulder, inspecting the stitches that closed the bite wound. “We were just about to head underground, and then…?”

“According to Casey, you made it down the ladder and most of the way to the lair before you gave him a little love-bite.”

April blushed slightly, casting her eyes to the floor. “Don’t say it like that…”

“Anyway, he managed to get you in a hold with his stick across your throat and marched you the rest of the way to the lair so we could get you both… secured.” He picked up a fresh syringe and filled it with the same liquid he’d used on her. “The guys helped me cobble these cages together for you two, then went back out… Against medical advice, might I add! But there’s people who venture out for supplies and end up needing a rescue…” He looked distractedly at the door. “One of them must have gotten infected without realizing and spread it to the other two before they reached the lair. Lucky for them,” he said, brandishing the syringe, “through the last three and a half weeks of work and experimentation _I_ found a solution!” He injected it into Casey’s IV as the vigilante raged and attempted to grab him with a typically Casey amount of violence, slamming wildly against the bars as Don dodged and leaned out of range. Turning back to April, he added in a straightforward manner, “It’s literally a solution of largely lithium carbonate, insulin glargine, dextroamphetamine, and, of course, phosphorolated atazanavir. But you probably guessed that.”

April gave him an awkward, strained grin. “Uhh… sure!”

A few minutes later, a more normal groan emanated from the vigilante. The young man clutched his head with his one available hand. “Man… That was _not_ metal… How long—”

A loud thump against the lab door interrupted him.

“What was _that_?!” he asked as April worked to unlock his cage and shackle, while Donatello returned to his worktable and began throwing things together at speed.

“That’ll be one of the guys,” Don answered, not taking his eyes off the Bunsen burner and flasks he was mixing.

Casey wilted. “Aw, no… Did I bite somebody?”

The turtle looked up for a moment. “No, it wasn’t you.”

“We were both out for three and a half weeks,” April relayed, “and this just happened.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, the boy flopped into Don’s chair, lazily spinning in it as he did. “Whew. But, wait, almost a month? Feels like I just took a cat-nap…”

“The virus must affect the body’s circadian rhythm, somehow. I’ll have to remember to list that as a side-effect in my notes. But for now,” Don said, loading his completed solution into three hypodermic needles, “we’ll need to go fix Raph, Leo, and Mikey.”

“Great,” Casey muttered. “Nothin’ like going up against three zombie turtle ninjas…”

“Actually, probably a nix on the ninja part for now. They’re dumb, biting brutes, just like all the others.” He held out one of the needles to Casey. “I’m gonna need you guys’ help. Three on three. April, do you think you can incapacitate them for us with your powers?”

“I think so,” she replied, also accepting the needle handed to her, “but not for very long.”

“Good. We’ll come around in back of them from the garage. Casey, you’re strongest, so you take Raph. April will take Mikey. I’ll get Leo. Stab the needle all the way into the flesh, then hit the plunger. Anywhere soft will do: neck, thigh, calf, arm. Then retreat to the lab… it takes approximately seven-point-three minutes for the change to take effect.”

The three of them moved to the garage door, which Don grabbed the handle of, preparing to yank it open. “They’ll be on us quick, so spread out as soon and as far as you can. Ready? One… two…”

Casey reached over his head, and clutched empty air. “Wait, hold it…” he said, causing the turtle genius to let out a sigh and roll his eyes. “Where the heck is my stick?!” A quick glance around the lab turned up no results, so Casey looked to Don desperately.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Whaddya mean you don’t know?! That stick is my baby!”

“Casey—” April tried to interject.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to manage your inventory!” Don bit back. “I was too busy trying to find a cure to save most of the Eastern seaboard if not the world!”

“Guys! Not the time!”

Don conceded and tapped his chin in thought. “You were using it to keep April pinned when you brought her to the lair. It must be out there somewhere.”

“Rats…” Casey moped, reaching back to pull out his bat instead. “Plan B it is!” He looked over at April when he got no immediate response. “The ‘b’ is for bat.”

“Yeah, we got that,” she snapped back impatiently.

“ _Now_ are we ready?” Don queried, and receiving nods from both of his allies, yanked the door open…

…immediately meeting six clouded eyes and three snapping, snarling mutant turtle beaks. He let out a yelp, backpedaling.

April’s game-face dropped. “All the noise must’ve attracted them!”

“Push ‘em back!” Casey yelled, throwing his weight against Raph and Leo in front of him. Don joined him, shoving Raph and Mikey back by their plastrons, while April, stuck behind the boys and unable to help push, started focusing her telekinesis. 

As soon as Don and Casey had bulldozed the three zombie turtles into the lair’s main room and Mikey began lumbering toward April, the girl closed her eyes and held a hand out, then turned it over and motioned upward, lifting the zombies a few inches in the air and holding them there.

Facing off a clawing but otherwise incapacitated Leo, Donnie uncapped his syringe and moved for the back of Leo’s shoulder. But before he could insert the needle, Leo’s fist came up in a swift move, knocking it out of Don’s hand. Don yelped and dove to catch the fragile object. 

“You _would_ still have your ninja reflexes!” he told his zombified brother sourly as he stood back up.

“Rrrghh… It’s not just Leo!” Casey called, struggling to pull his weapon from Raphael’s grip on both ends while shoving a foot against his torso to avoid being bit. Meanwhile, Mikey had somehow gone into a mid-air spin, and April was having trouble both figuring out _how, even,_ and finding a spot to aim at, and was sweating from the effort of keeping the zombies airborne.

“I can’t… hold them… much… longer!”

And indeed, she couldn’t. A moment later, the three infected brothers dropped to the ground all at once. Michelangelo landed flat on his face after his uncontrolled spin, and April took the advantage to stab the needle into the first available soft tissue she spotted… and afterward blushed a shade as vibrant as her hair.

Don dashed away from Leo to where Casey was still grappling with Raph. “Change of plans!” he announced as he came around in back of the red-banded brawler, sticking the needle straight into the bulging jugular vein and injecting the contents. “Where’s yours?”

“Hoodie pocket!” he called, then swung Raph around to block and smash an oncoming Leo with his brother’s shell, putting said pocket conveniently in Don’s reach.

As the genius fished around in the hoodie, he quipped, “Is that a solution of amphetamines and distilled nucleo-peptides in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Dude, shut up…” Casey whined. “Don’t make it weird!”

Don continued to chuckle as he stood and uncapped the syringe. “April? A little assist?”

April stomped on Mikey’s shell, knocking him back to the ground again. “I gotcha. Go!”

The genius drew back his arm and threw, the syringe dart whistling through the air like a shot (haha). Leo’s hand moved with lightning speed to bat it away once more, but the needle zigzagged midair and looped over his shoulder to embed and inject itself behind him.

“Great!” Don praised. “Now we just have to wait approximately… six and a half minutes for them to—erf!” He caught Leo on his bo as the leader charged him. “—take effect!”

Never had approximately six and a half minutes seemed so long.

Casey was clearly weakening against his opponent, who was now putting bite marks in Casey’s Louisville Slugger.

April kept kicking Mikey down, until a hand came up and grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her off-balance. She shrieked and hopped, trying to stay up and pull her foot back at the same time while Mikey was finally able to push himself up enough to try to bite at the limb he held hostage. 

“April!” Don called in concern as she kicked at Michelangelo, whimpering in panic when she couldn’t get him to relinquish her, but Donnie had his own opponent to fend off, and couldn’t get to her right now. 

Leo kicked his bo off-target. Don recovered and tried a series of jabs with it at his brother’s upper plastron, but the expert ninja parried and dodged each one, the only thing different in his moves being the grating hisses he let out and the occasional snap of the teeth if Don let him get too close. In fact, he swore Leo’s strikes were getting faster.

Which made sense, he thought; if the virus’s morbidity was slowly being countered, it would affect the muscles before allowing the brain to come back online and—

A series of moves Donnie hadn’t been prepared for took his bo out of his hands. With a yelp, he threw his arms up into a blocking stance, but Leo, swift as ever, outmaneuvered him and spun him to where he could sink his teeth into Don’s neck.

Don knew he wasn’t in a position to evade the bite. _Oh no, oh no, oh no!_ his mind fretted, infection imminent.

And then, suddenly, Leo’s teeth clamped together on thin air with a clack as he was yanked back by the rim of his carapace. “Oh no ya don’t, Fearless! I’m your dance partner now!” Leo hissed and Raph knocked him back with a one-two punch to the zombie turtle’s face.

Out of harm’s way himself now, Don turned to pull Mikey off of April, only to find that his younger brother was already coming to as well. “What the shell happened?” As he put one hand to his face to rub away some of the fogginess, April managed to pull her leg out of his remaining grip. He gasped. “Did I try to bite you? I’m sorry, April! I didn’t mean it!”

“It’s fine,” April breezed, trying to keep from blushing.

Don looked back to Raph. “Leo ought to be snapping out of it any second now…”

Sure enough, as Raphael backed off, Leo’s attacks slackened until the leader zombie stood motionless. 

“Come on back to us, Leo,” Don called, to no reaction.

“Leo? Come on, bro!” Mikey tried, distraught that their words weren’t working.

“I know what’ll bring him back,” Raph stated as he stepped toward his elder brother once again. He wound up and smacked Leo firmly across the face. 

Don thought he could see the whiteness literally knocked out of Leo’s vision. 

Leonardo let out a groan and wrenched he jaw back into place, massaging it. “Did you just slap me?”

Raph shrugged smugly. “I was calming you down.”

Leo aimed a sour look his way, then turned back to the group. “Is everyone okay?”

Everyone nodded, except for Mikey. “Yeah, but it feels like I took a groin kick…”

April went crimson again. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” she chanted, burying her face in her hands while Mikey tried to pry an answer out of her.

“Baby! There you are!” Casey reclaimed his hockey stick from where it leaned against the lair’s entrance. He gave the stick’s crook a kiss before sheathing it on his back.

Leo walked up and clapped a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. “Good work, Don. Does this mean you can make a cure for the rest of New York?”

Don held his chin in his hand. “I believe so. In fact, I had an idea on how to aerosolize it… We can use the zeppelin to distribute it across the whole city. But I’m gonna need a lot of chemicals.”

“Do you know where to find what you need?”

“Oh, sure. There’s a big medical manufacture’s down near the docks that has everything I’ll need and more… barrels of it!”

“Then let’s get going, while we still have some daylight. Everyone in the Shellraiser.”

Half an hour later, they were at the manufacturing plant, with one stop for Raph to take over driving, since Leo wanted to stop and check on the state of every zombie he accidentally mowed down, despite the Shellraiser’s cattle-pusher being engaged. 

The area was fairly clear of shamblers, so with only April standing watch, the rest of the team entered the facility. Don pointed out barrels of chemicals he needed, and the guys rolled and carried them to the loading bay. Donnie himself appropriated some extra equipment to increase production, promising he’d return it later, loading this into the modified subway car as well. 

They were nearly finished when Casey paused, noticing April wandering around the abandoned loading bay. “Yo, Red… whatcha doin’?” he called, but April didn’t answer. Donatello stuck his head out of the back of the vehicle to oversee the last few barrels being loaded when he noticed his rival approaching the girl. Old jealousies stirred within him, despite he and Casey having settled their differences over courting April ages ago. He narrowed his eyes, watching them. Relationships aside, something was off…

“April, hey…” Casey tried again, laying a hand on her shoulder. April whirled on him, eyes milk-white again. She hissed and ran at him as he stumbled backward in shock. “Guys!”

Don was at his side in a flash. “Was she bitten again?” he asked, blocking her with his bo to give Casey time to draw his beloved stick.

“Naw, not anywhere I can see…”

The turtle medic looked her over for himself, but, consistent with Casey’s assessment, there were no bleeding marks consistent with bites, and not another zombie in sight, which could only mean…

“…she reverted!” he whispered, aghast.

Casey looked into his eyes, horrified, then resolutely squared his jaw. In a single motion, he spun April by the shoulder and locked his stick around her arms and torso, pinning her against him. “Everybody get in the van, now!” he screamed. “Don, GO! I’ve got her!”

“What about you?” Don asked, refusing to do as told.

“Look, if April turned back, you’ve only got a few minutes before I do, and not long before the guys do too! You gotta get that stuff to the lair!”

“Casey, get in the van! I can still save you both!” Donnie called back as he stepped into the rear hatch.

Casey smirked at him. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius! You can’t fight zombies in a van packed to the gills with turtles and barrels! You’ll save us when you find the real cure! Now get outta here!”

Don’s heart dropped, not only for leaving their allies behind, but Casey was right… this wasn’t the real cure. 

Leo hopped in the back with him, pulling the lever to shut the doors. “He’s got a point. If we’re gonna get back in time, we have to go. Now. Raph, floor it!”

They lurched as the Shellraiser peeled out, then fishtailed side to side in Raph’s haste. Don caught Casey giving them heavy-metal horns with one hand, still restraining April with the other, as the top and bottom of the hatch met and sealed.

Donatello stared at the shut door and put a hand against the cool metal, the held up two fingers and curled his thumb in, the best approximation of devil’s horns he could manage with only three fingers.

As soon as the Shellraiser skidded to a stop outside the garage, it was a mad dash into the lab. Raphael made to start unloading the barrels, but Don shooed him inside. “I can unload those. What I can’t do on my own is get you into the restraints while you’re a zombie!”

Raph sighed in an aggravated way, but marched into one of the cages, sliding both bolts shut after him. “Whatever you say, Don.” Leo did the same with the second cage while, lacking a third or any time to slap another cage together, Don secured Mikey plastron-down to one of the medical cots. Mikey, one arm tied down already, busily tapped away at his T-phone with his thumb.

“What’re you doing?” Don asked somberly, readying the final strap for Mikey’s remaining arm.

Mikey finished his task and handed the phone off to Don. “Making you a schedule so you don’t destroy yourself while trying to save us. No ignoring it, either! When it says to eat lunch, you eat lunch. When it says eat dinner, you eat dinner. When it says to go potty—”

“I get it!” Don rolled his eyes, but gave his little brother a warm grin. “Thanks, Mikey.” He set up the IV line in Mikey’s free arm, then bound it tightly to the cot.

“See you soon, bro,” Mikey beamed back. By the time Don had finished Raph and Leo’s IVs, Mikey’s eyes had already clouded over and he was emitting the telltale throaty hiss. 

Donnie worked fast to pad the shackles of the two cages by gluing down pieces of an old fleece chamois to line the cuffs. He’d barely finished the second, Leo’s, when Raph rezombified and started thrashing against the bars of his cage like a gorilla. He clamped the manacle around Leo’s arm. “I guess this is it.”

“I guess it is. Donnie, don’t give up hope. You’ve got this.”

Don gave him a despairing look. “I almost had it!”

Leo shook his head. “You almost _have_ it!” he corrected. “You’re on to something. This cure was temporary, but it worked! Keep going!”

“Thanks, Leo.”

“I love you, little brother.”

Don couldn’t hold the tears that snuck out of his eyes, nor did he bother. “I love you too.”

With that, Leo sat down in a meditative position and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t until 28 minutes later that he started gnashing his teeth at Don like Mikey and Raph.

_Log, Day 47._

_Test 439 – Partial success. Leonardo remained lucid for nearly 14.2 hours, up from Mikey’s 10.5 hours with test 438. Key may be in the addition of the glycol detamine; increasing from 0.5 grams to 0.6 grams in following test. The dilation of the window of lucidity keeps increasing almost exponentially… but when, if ever, will it be a permanent solution?_

_I need to go on a supply run… There are a few extraneous chemicals I need, food, coffee, but most importantly and most rare, toilet paper. I plan on using extreme caution; better to abort mission and come home hungry than find myself in a situation I can’t get out of. To that end, I’ve invented the bomber drone, inspired by Casey, which will drop a small but loud incendiary device every hundred meters, in a line leading away from my position._

_I am leaving my brothers in their incognizant state. I don’t need them worrying over me, and I also can’t have them sacrificing themselves; in that, I would lose both a brother and a test subject. But… should something happen to me, I have set up nutrient infusions to last a week, the final bag in the chain being pentabarbitol, a potent euthanasia. I anticipate being back long before this bag reaches their systems, but if for some reason I’m not, I won’t have my brothers suffer a long death._

“What a note to end on…” Don muttered to himself. But, there was neither time nor necessity for sentimental notions, so he left it at that, shouldering his extra scavenging gear. “Well, wish me luck!” he told his zombie brothers, then stopped to chuckle to himself as they all growled back at him. “Ya know, you guys are lucky. I could be the monster banging on the inside of a cage, and then what would you do?”


End file.
